mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe

Chicago is breathtaking at night; he tries not to stare at the tall buildings and candescent lights, the movement of the cars, the way people talk too loudly and in secret at the same time, fancy clothes a cold breeze that announces both the end of the day and the beginning of fall- but it’s impossible not to. He has a car, two if he counts Ryan’s, but walking is the best way to get to know a city better. They are too far away from any of the places the two of them know best and every hint of similarity floods him with intrusive nostalgia that makes him regret the whole moving out a little bit.

“Hey.” He probably doesn’t. not when Ryan is waiting for him at home in a cozy pair of seat pants and an oversized tee, smelling of the food Shane has to prepare the day before for Ryan to heat up at night because he’s just that useless in the kitchen and smiling from ear to ear. “Heard the news, guy is probably getting a life sentence. Congrats!” Ryan leaves it at that, of course, gives him a sweet smile and a poor try of a wink before he starts taking about something else entirely because Ryan knows him just that well. “The chicken was great; by the way, what did you do to it?”

“Seasoned it with all the love I have left for the man that took my heart away.” He undoes his tie, steps out of his leather shoes, unbuckles his belt and starts to miss the good old days in which he didn’t have to look so formal every day. The apartment has only one room, the living is small enough that the TV stand is practically caressing the coffee table in front of the sofa, they couldn’t change the carpet before they moved in and Ryan still complains about how old and stained it is. The windows don’t have pretty views, the bathroom gets cockroaches infestations more often than not, the electric connection is flimsy, the kitchen barely gives them enough space to move around if the chairs aren’t perfectly tucked under the table. Shane only loves it because it scrams1 them with all the paper balls covering the floor and the endless piles of files that Shane keeps for himself with each case that catches his attention.

“Shut up.” Ryan says between his teeth, but he sounds as in love as ever.

In the middle of the night, when the night sky almost lets out a glimpse of stars and the neighbors are finally quiet, Ryan writes. Shane doesn’t mind anymore, could sleep through tornados and hurricanes and maybe he still doesn’t like the idea of Ryan spending most of the night awake but inspiration come at odd times for someone who always has his mind everywhere.

That’s exactly why they are so similar. It was a running joke, even when they still were only friends, that Ryan and Shane were complete opposites. Short and tall, quiet and loud, skeptic and believer, emotional and cold, out-going and reserved, special cases investigator and fantasy writer. They say opposites go together but only similar people become something real and it’s under the surface, hidden behind a sweet smile that hides the way Ryan twitches with concern about things that don’t even mean anything for him. Underneath, they are one and the same, laugh at the same silly jokes and blurt out comments that come out as offensive more often than not; they watch the same shows, criticize the same points, love the same food, keep their friends at the same distance and even share the same amount of passion for the things they care about.

“Ry, it’s four already.” Shane mumbles, he really has no way of knowing for sure what it is, but gut instinct tells him it’s past three so he will go with it.

“It’s only three thirty, you’re just tired.” Well, Shane wasn’t that far off.

“Fine!” Shane hears Ryan closing his laptop a little too harshly for the silence of the night and sighs. He can’ even fully open his eyes yet. “Fine, let me forget about this tomorrow so I can’t keep writing this shit.”

“Ryan.”

“I’m just saying! It’s funny how you can stay in the office for days straight until the case is solved but I can’t even finish a damn page before you start complaining.”

“Bed.” It comes out so much like a whine that Shane is tempted to do grabby hands and everything, Ryan’s desk is right in front of the bed, next to the wardrobe and clogged with notebooks and forgotten pages that are only half written. It’s hard to tell where he places his computer when he writes, but Ryan always has a mess that makes sense only for him.

“Sure.” Ryan is grumbling, stomping his feet as he makes his way into the bed, but he’s quick to curl into Shane’s chest once he’s finally under the covers. “I need to finish this chapter by next week.” It’s finally soft, a breathe of cold air on Ryan’s heated temple.

“I know.” It’s weird how easy it is to relax under Ryan’s touch, one simple sniff of his fruity shampoo and Shane is already drifting off again. “I know. You will. Get some sleep now.”

Ryan’s face is everywhere, he’s name engraved in the mind of every person that has ever picked up a book. Shane knows he stays inside most of the day simply because he doesn’t like running into fans that might want to bother him while he’s doing the simplest of task, but it doesn’t feel right when four out of five people that Shane runs into on his way to work have a copy of Ryan’s latest book between their fingers. It almost feels like Ryan should be bowing down and thanking everyone who purchases a copy, and yet, that’s not true either. They should thank Ryan for all his all nighters and grumpy days that not even Shane can make easier.

Read this when you’re at the office pls Ryan sends in a quick text right before he attaches a word document file, and Shane can’t help but wonder how many people would bow down to him only to get a glimpse of what he’s about to read. He’s not an avid reader, wouldn’t dream of spending hours with his nose stuck between sheets of paper that have nothing to do with criminal cases, but Ryan just has that gift, a way of dancing between words so smoothly that Shane is always surprised to find that he’s already at the bottom of the page. Beautiful language, yet simple, intricate descriptions, fantasy so well written that it might as well be real and Shane always laugh when thing become a little too hard to believe but it only happens when Ryan gets too excited about everything. They complement each other, Shane loves it.

“Something for me?” Quinta has a mug of coffee on her hand that Shane swiftly takes from her when she stops on her track to her office.

“Not really.” She doesn’t even fight it now, simply lets Shane get away with it because that’s just how Shane is and she wouldn’t have left LA behind just to follow Shane around if she didn’t know him well enough. “Unless you want to take over the…” She checks the list papers previously held under her right arm. “Three car accidents, two suicide attempts and four armed robberies that happened in the last hours.” Shane takes a sip of the coffee; Quinta takes it dark, and he always makes a face after the first sip and tells her to add a little cream to it, but she never does.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“That’s what I thought.”

It feels unfair, to get celebrated every time he solves something when he spends most of his days reading about old cases that are already closed or on the verge to be, sat on his desk, probably watching some of Ryan’s interviews if he really has time to waste. Special cases are everywhere, happen all the time, yet Shane’s intervention isn’t always needed and he misses his FBI days. Misses LA showering Ryan’s toasted skin with bright sunlight. Misses the long car rides that were only bearable because Ryan was always at his right. Misses, but not too much, because comfort is where Ryan is and Ryan is in Chicago, with him.